


money where your mouth is

by queervengers (nonsexualandsilly)



Series: waking up in vegas [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, NHL AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsexualandsilly/pseuds/queervengers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dibs on blondie,” Kent tells Jack.<br/>Jack makes a face at him. “Kenny, you can’t call dibs on a human being.”<br/>Kent scoffs. “Says you. Dibs.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	money where your mouth is

**Author's Note:**

> okay so....i blame twitter for this. (particularly twitter user @substitutepanda, but like.....all of y'all)
> 
> this is a slight au where Jack never ODed and ended up in the NHL and now he and kent both play for the aces

“Zimms, come _on_ , I haven’t gotten laid in, like, a week. At least. Maybe eight days.” Kent throws himself down on Jack’s bed dramatically, one hand flung over his forehead in mock distress.

Jack throws a pillow at his head, then goes back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop. “Then go out and get laid, Kenny. Or are you afraid all the girls will run away when they see your ugly face?”

Kent ignores the chirp and instead scoots up the bed so that he’s sitting next to Jack. “You’re my favorite wingman, Z.” He rests his head on Jack’s shoulder. “ _Please_? We have tomorrow off! _You_ could probably even find someone willing to lower their standards enough to fuck you,” he teases.

“Kent, I’m - ”

“ _You_ ,” Kent says, sitting up and looking Jack in the face, “are going to put on that shirt  that brings out your eyes and those pants that bring out your ass, and you are going to come provide backup on Operation Get Me Laid.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Jack grumbles, but he’s closing his laptop.

Kent just winks at him.

 

The bar is too loud for them to talk much, but Kent doesn’t really care - he’s not here to talk. He’s got his eye on a girl across the room, a redhead with legs that seem to go on forever who keeps glancing at him and smiling. He leans over to tell Jack that he’s going to head over there and see if she’s worth taking home, but Jack’s focused on something.

Kent follows his gaze to the group that just walked in the door and -

_Oh._

“Dibs on blondie,” he tells Jack.

Jack makes a face at him. “Kenny, you can’t call dibs on a human being.”

Kent scoffs. “Says you. _Dibs_.”

“I saw him first,” Jack protests.

“Race you.” Jack starts to reply, but Kent ignores him. He grabs his beer off of the bar and heads for the booth the guy and his friends are sitting in now. Right before he gets there, Blondie stands up and starts heading for the bar, but he’s clearly not looking where he’s going - he bumps into Kent, who holds out his hands to steady him. (If he leaves his hands on the guy‘s arms a moment longer than necessary, who can blame him? They‘re nice arms.)

“Hi there,” Kent says, flashing his most charming smile. “I’m - ”

“Kent Parson, oh my goodness!” The guy has a southern accent, and it’s probably the cutest thing Kent’s ever heard.

“Hockey fan?” Kent guesses.

“I play! Not...not like you do, just college hockey out in Massachusetts, but. Big fan, yeah. Gosh, where are my manners? I’m Eric Bittle.” He sticks out a hand, and Kent takes it, though they both end up holding on a little too long. Not that Kent’s complaining.

“Nice to meet you, Eric Bittle.”

“Here, sit down with us, let me buy you a drink!”

“I can’t let you do that,” Kent says, seriously, and Eric’s face falls before Kent continues. “See, I came over here to buy _you_ a drink.” Eric’s eyes go comically wide at that. Kent winks at him. “What can I - ”

He‘s cut off by one of Eric‘s friends, who‘s got a mustache and pretty fantastic flow. “Holy _fucking_ shit, you’re Kent Parson. Bitty. That’s Kent Parson.”

“I _do_ have eyes, Shitty,” Eric says, hands on his hips.

Mustache guy - Shitty? - throws an arm over Kent’s shoulders. “Bro. Drinks on me tonight if you grace our table with your glorious fuckin’ presence.” He pushes Kent towards said table, and Kent goes. “I’ll be back with booze, Bits’ll introduce you to the squad.”

Kent slides into the empty side of the booth, followed immediately by Eric, and the conversation on the other side stops immediately.

“Y’all,” Eric says, and _fuck_ , that’s adorable, “this is Kent! Kent, this is Ransom, Holster, and Lardo.” He points at each of them in turn. “And you met Shitty, and a few others might be stopping by later.”

“Hey,” Kent says with a little wave at the others, who immediately start asking him questions about last season, throwing in stories, all talking over each other. They seem nice, though, so he laughs and replies at the right time and slowly spreads his legs until his knee touches Eric’s. Eric jumps a little when that happens, but then relaxes and moves a little closer to Kent, and then they’re thigh to thigh and Kent grins halfway through his answer to Holster’s question about the playoffs.

After a few minutes of chatter, Shitty bursts through the crowd, a tray of drinks held over his head, Jack right behind him. “Look who I found! Motherfucking Jack Zimmermann!” Shitty says as he sets the drinks around the table and slides in next to Lardo. Jack sits down on Eric’s other side, and the table whips through quick introductions.

While everyone’s focused on Jack, Kent takes the opportunity to rest his hand on Eric’s thigh, and he hears Eric suck in a sharp breath. Kent smirks at him, and Eric offers a tentative smile back, pushing his thigh against Kent’s a little harder.

“So,” Kent says to Lardo while everyone’s quiet. “What was it you were saying before about Samwell’s athletic scholarship system?” She picks up her explanation again, and the conversation starts flowing again. And yeah, Kent’s listening to Lardo, but he’s also half listening to Jack and Eric, who are definitely flirting a little bit, and Kent’s almost offended by that, but Jack’s always been a competitive little shit.

Then again, so has Kent, so he starts rubbing circles into Eric’s jeans, and his hand is definitely far enough up that it’s clearly not just friendly.

But Eric keeps pressing his leg against Kent and beaming up at Jack while they talk about fucking _baking,_ and Kent clearly needs to step up his game. “I need some air,” he says, and Jack and Eric slide out of the booth. Kent lets his hand very deliberately run down Eric’s inseam as they do, and Kent raises his eyebrows at Eric, jerking his head to the door and hoping Eric gets the message.

 

Kent’s only been in the alley beside the bar for a moment when Eric comes around the corner, a sweatshirt that’s too big for him wrapped around his body - as Eric gets closer, Kent realizes it’s Jack’s, and that just won’t do.

“Kent Parson, what could you _possibly_ want from me out here in the cold?” Eric asks, but the smile on his face makes it pretty clear he already knows.

Kent doesn’t reply, just reaches one hand out and links a finger in one of Eric’s belt loops and uses it to tug him in for a kiss.

Eric opens up to him _beautifully_ , his mouth soft against Kent’s as he grips the front of Kent’s shirt. He tastes like sugar and alcohol and cinnamon, and Kent is so glad he gets to do this instead of Jack. Kent slips his hands up under the sweatshirt and Eric’s shirt, gets his hands on skin and maneuvers them so that he’s got Eric against the wall, hands now fisted in Kent’s hair.

Kent cups the side of Eric’s face and smiles against his mouth, pulling away before it can turn any filthier, rubbing a thumb over Eric’s cheek. “Just wanted to make my position clear,” he says, leaning in to kiss Eric one more time, softer now. “Now, I have a scintillating discussion of college hockey to get back to, unless you’d rather skip that part and come with me back to mine?”

Eric looks up at him, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. “I’d love - Jack!”

And sure enough, there’s Zimms, just a few feet away, one hand in his pocket. “I just - ”

He’s cut off by Eric striding forward and planting one right on Jack’s lips, which - Kent’s confused now. Kent’s really fucking confused. Fortunately, it looks like Jack’s equally baffled, because he’s frozen in place.

Eric pulls back, then looks from Kent to Jack and back to Kent. “I think I missed something here,” he says, accent even more pronounced now. He points at Jack. “Were you _not_ hitting on me in there?”

“I was, yeah, but - ”

Eric cuts him off. “And obviously I didn’t misread things with _you,_ Kent.” Kent shakes his head. “So were y’all...not angling for a threesome here?”

Kent can’t help it - he cracks up at that. “Me and Zimms? Fuck, Eric, no.”

Eric’s eyebrows furrow. “I thought you two were kind of a package deal.”

“Not in bed,” Jack says. “Never in bed.” Kent almost points out that that’s not quite true, but they - they don’t really talk about what happened before Jack got his shit together, not about the drugs or the handjobs or the number of times Kent helped Jack through impossibly rough nights - those things are remnants of a different time, and they all stopped together when Jack had finally acknowledged he was out of control, and since then, it’s like Jack said. Package deal, but never in bed.

“Then why, pray tell, were you both about five minutes away from jerking me off under the table in there?”

Kent runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth down his cowlick. “Well, we both saw you, and you’re gorgeous, obviously, so we were just seeing which one of us you’d take up on it.”

“Like some sort of competition?” Eric asks with a scowl. “Kent Parson, I am not a prize to be won.”

“Look,” Jack says, “I just came out here to tell you guys I was headed back to my apartment and I’d see you later. I’m just going to - ”

“No, you stay right there. Look, y’all are both hotter than hell, but I don’t appreciate this kind of behavior.”

Kent reaches out a hand and rests it on Eric’s waist. “Look, we’re sorry. How can we make this right?”

Eric smiles and rests his hand on top of Kent’s. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh no,” Jack says quietly.

“See, I was really looking forward to the whole Zimmermann-Parson experience.” Eric reaches out and runs a hand down Jack’s arm. “The one that involves _both_ of you.”

Kent looks at Jack, who looks back, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Eric continues, “I can always go back in there and get drunk with my friends and we can all look back on tonight and remember how cool it was to meet you guys. That’s fine with me. But I’d much rather go home with both of you than neither of you. Understand?”

Kent nods, still looking at Jack. “Eric, can you give us a minute?”

“Absolutely. Now, I’ll just be back at the table, just come find me when you’ve made up your minds, all right?” He kisses Kent on the cheek, then stands on his tiptoes and does the same to Jack before heading back around the corner.

“He’s something else, eh?” Jack asks once Eric’s gone.

Kent nods. “He really is. I’m down if you are.” Jack looks at him, and Kent reads the worry and confusion on his face, so Kent throws an arm over his shoulder. “Look, Zimms, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, obviously - I’m not going to prioritize a fuck over our friendship or your mental health or whatever. But he’s hot and you’re hot and I’m fucking incredible in bed, and I’m pretty sure that our friendship can handle a couple orgasms.”

Jack laughs. “It has before.”

“Jack,” Kent says, soft, because they’ve never talked about that - it’s been an unspoken rule of their friendship since Kent got traded to the Aces.

“We could try it,” Jack says. “I want to.”

And fuck if Kent hasn’t always been willing to give Jack anything he wants. “You’re on, Zimms,” he says, grabbing Jack’s hand and leading him back into the bar.

Eric’s whole face lights up when he sees them, and he gets up from the booth and heads for them. “I take it from the hand-holding y’all made the right call.” Kent wants to kiss the smug look off his face, and fully intends to do so later, but for now they’re in public, and Kent’s pretty sure fucking Eric over one of these tables would get him and Jack arrested, so he puts those thoughts on hold.

Kent rests his free hand on the small of Eric’s back. “Let’s get out of here. I’m parked a few blocks away.”

Eric nods, and Kent guides him out, his other hand still in Jack’s.

The August night air is hot and dry, and Kent can’t get to the car fast enough - he’s genuinely excited for this, in a way he isn’t usually for sex. He wonders if holding Jack’s hand is too obvious, if someone with a camera phone is going to get a picture and sell it, if Jack’s going to think it’s too intimate, but Kent can’t be assed to care - their hands fit together all too well, and that combined with Eric’s small waist under his other hand has Kent’s heart beating faster than it ever does off the ice.

They get to Kent’s car, and Jack climbs into the back, leaving the passenger seat for Eric, who runs his hands over the leather before sitting down. Kent heads for the driver’s side and gets in, starting the car and handing Eric the aux cord. Eric’s whole face lights up.

Kent just grins while Eric turns on some Nicki Minaj.

Kent’s apartment is only a few minutes away, but the drive feels like an eternity, though Eric singing along to Va Va Voom makes it at least an _enjoyable_ eternity. (They both ignore Jack when he asks if the song is by the Spice Girls.)

They finally get to the lot outside Kent’s apartment, and Kent parks - a little sloppily, but he doesn’t care - and leads them all inside.

As soon as they’re in the elevator and the doors are shut, Eric throws himself at Jack, who catches him smoothly and kisses him. Unlike in the alleyway before, this time Jack kisses back, his hands on Eric’s fantastic ass, Eric’s hands around Jack’s neck.

Not wanting to be forgotten, Kent crowds up behind Eric, slipping his hands up under the hoodie and his shirt. Eric leans back into his touch but keeps kissing Jack, and it’s sloppy and hot as hell and Kent mouths at Eric’s neck, and Eric gasps against Jack’s mouth, and -

The elevator dings.

Jack sets Eric down and Kent leads them down the hall to his door, pressing Eric against it and kissing him hard as soon as it’s closed, but just for a moment - he has priorities, and those priorities involve his king sized bed and a lot less clothing.

“Bedroom?” Kent asks against Eric’s mouth. Eric nods, so Kent grabs one of his hands and one of Jack’s and starts leading them through the apartment, but Eric stops him in the kitchen.

“Goodness, Kent, this is amazing. Do you cook?”

Jack laughs out loud at that. “I think Kenny’s cooking repertoire consists of _maybe_ spaghetti.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Zimmermann.”

Eric’s running his hands over the appliances and countertops. “Really, it’s beautiful.”

“You know what else is beautiful? My giant fucking bed, which is much, much better for sex. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to bend you over the counter, but we should save that for round two. Maybe round five. But if you want to keep admiring the oven, that’s your call.”

Eric makes a face at Kent, who just keeps holding Jack’s hand and slowly drifting towards the bedroom. Eric takes the hint and starts pushing them toward the door. “Fine, yes, bedroom. Let’s go.”

So Kent goes, Eric and Jack in tow, and as soon as he’s sitting on the bed, Eric straddles him, kissing him wet and filthy while Kent clings to his hips. Kent feels the bed dip behind him, and then Jack’s hands are on Kent, sliding up the hem of Kent’s shirt while Jack sucks a bruise into Kent’s neck and pulls him onto Jack’s lap.

Kent’s basically in heaven.

He pulls back from Eric for a moment to pull his shirt off, and while he’s pulling it over his head, Eric and Jack start making out over his shoulder. Kent lets them keep at it, but starts working at the buttons of Eric’s shirt, then pushes it and Jack’s sweatshirt off of Eric’s shoulders. Eric’s gorgeous shirtless, all lean muscle and soft skin. Kent drinks in the sight, then bites Eric’s shoulder, trailing his teeth along a collarbone.

“Jack,” Eric says between kisses, “you’re overdressed.”

Kent doesn’t turn to see, but he feels Jack taking off his shirt, hears it land across the room, and then Jack’s hands are back on both of them, and Kent’s pretty sure he can feel Jack’s dick pressing against his back, so he grinds back on it and grins at the noise Jack makes against the back of his neck.

He kisses Eric again, slides one hand from Eric’s hip onto his thigh, letting his thumb run along the outline of Eric’s dick through his jeans. Eric lifts his hips and pushes against Kent’s hand, so Kent ditches all pretense of subtlety and pops open the button of Eric’s jeans.

There’s an awkward moment where Eric tries to maneuver out of his jeans without getting off of Kent’s lap, and Kent can’t keep his balance on _Jack’s_ lap, and then they’re all tumbling over and back onto the bed in a heap of limbs, Eric’s elbow knocking into Kent’s ribs while Kent’s head bangs into Jack’s.

“Ow,” Jack says, and then they’re all laughing while Eric rolls off of them and wriggles out of his jeans. Kent takes a moment to admire Eric’s legs, and then he notices the boxers.

“Are those _pie print_?” he asks.

Eric blushes. “They were a gift from the team! And it’s not like I was expecting anyone to see them, let alone multiple NHL players. So y’all can kindly shut up.”

Kent laughs and pulls Eric in for another kiss, and they make out for a few minutes, Eric pressed up against Kent’s front, Jack against Kent’s back again. It’s lazy and gentle and totally great, except Kent isn’t here for lazy and gentle - he’s here for getting Eric’s dick in his mouth, like, right the fuck now.

He pulls away and is about to say something, but then Jack’s rolling him over and kissing him, and Kent’s immediately disappointed that he hasn’t spent the majority of the last three years kissing Jack Zimmermann, because it’s great, it’s fucking fantastic, he could spend entire days kissing Jack. But he’s also still got an arm around Eric’s waist, and he still really wants to suck Eric off, so the hours and hours of making out with Jack are going to have to wait.

He kisses Jack one more time, then unceremoniously climbs off the bed, sliding off his pants and briefs as he does.

Eric sits up and looks down at him, so Kent looks right back up and then leans in and plants a kiss right where the hem of Eric’s boxers meets his thigh, then another a little further up, then another, continuing until he’s mouthing at Eric’s cock through the pie-printed fabric, and Eric’s all gorgeous and gasping while Jack watches them both, but Kent doesn’t have the patience for this shit, so he slides Eric’s boxers off and looks up at Jack.

“Back me up here, Zimms?” Jack nods and almost trips over himself getting onto the floor next to Kent.

“Oh, Lord,” Eric breathes, looking down at both of them. Kent smirks at him and then goes for it - he gets his mouth on Eric’s cock, one hand on the base, and he’s good at this. He picks up his usual rhythm quickly, gives Eric a taste of that, but he didn’t get Jack down here for nothing, so he lets his hand drop and then guides one of Jack’s up, so that Jack’s jerking Eric off into Kent’s mouth.

Kent’s done this before, but it’s never been as smooth - usually the other person’s hand bumps into his mouth too often or too hard, or they’re running on different rhythms, but this is like everything else with Jack - it’s as easy as breathing, Jack’s hand like an extension of Kent as Eric tangles his hand in Kent’s hair. It’s only then that Kent realizes Eric is talking, a litany of filth spilling out of his mouth, all in that same gorgeous southern drawl, though breathier now.

Kent pulls off of Eric’s dick and wipes at his mouth, and Eric frowns at the loss of contact, though Jack’s hand is still working the base of Eric’s cock. Kent slides a hand up to the back of Jack’s head and pushes him down, Jack opening his mouth and taking Eric in easily.

Kent just watches for a moment, appreciating the fantastic visual of Eric sliding in and out of Jack’s mouth, Jack’s eyes closed, one hand on Eric’s thigh and the other working the parts of Eric’s cock his mouth can’t reach.

Kent’s always been a big fan of audience participation, though, so he slides a little closer to Jack and unbuttons Jack’s jeans, pushing them down enough to get his cock out. Kent’s an old pro at this, so he jerks Jack off just how he knows Jack likes it - yeah, it’s been six years since he last did this, but Jack’s an easy read, and his cock fits in Kent’s hand just as well as it did back then.

They stay like that for a bit, Kent working Jack’s cock while Jack sucks Eric’s, but soon enough Kent starts to notice that Eric’s hands are clenched tight in Jack’s hair, his thigh muscles taut, so Kent moves his hand from Jack’s dick to his chest and pushes him off of Eric’s cock.

“Jack, babe, he’s gonna come if you keep that up,” Kent says, and Jack - cheeks flushed, lips spit-slicked, absolutely fucking beautiful - nods, and Kent can’t help but kiss him.

“Not to interrupt,” Eric says, “but I thought coming was kind of the point.”

Kent drops a kiss on Eric’s thigh, then rests his chin there. “It’s been, like, half an hour, Eric. No way are you getting off that easy.”

“What were you thinking, then?” Eric asks, one hand slowly working his cock.

Kent’s thinking a lot of things, probably more things than they can reasonably fit into one night. He wonders if Eric’s in Vegas often.

“I was thinking,” Jack says, sounding almost hesitant. “You could fuck me, Eric. I mean, if you wanted to.”

_“Lord,_ yes,” Eric chokes out. “How do you want to...I mean, have you, I - ”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Jack, on the bed. Eric, lube and condoms are in the nightstand.”

Jack tugs off his jeans and climbs onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. Kent straddles him and puts a finger under his chin, tilting Jack’s head up so Kent can kiss him again. Kent gets a hand between them and runs it along Jack’s cock, gentle and teasing, no intent behind it - just enjoying having Jack turned on and naked under him. Jack runs his hands down Kent’s back, scratching lightly, and Kent arches against the touch, using his free hand to play with one of Jack’s nipples.

It takes a minute, but eventually Kent realizes Eric’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching and smiling. Kent pulls back.

“My turn,” Eric says before climbing between them, facing Jack. While Jack and Eric make out, Kent switches his attention to Eric, getting a hand on his cock, the other on one hip, holding Eric steady.

And it’s nice, but Kent can think of several things that would be nicer. “Are you going to fuck him or not?” he asks Eric, breathing the words out against Eric’s neck and then sucking another mark there. Eric makes a soft sound and nods before pushing Jack back so he’s lying on the bed, Eric straddling him.

Kent runs a hand down Eric’s back, then along the inside of Jack’s thighs, trailing it lightly across his ass, then slapping it lightly, enjoying the sound it makes. He pushes at Eric’s shoulder, then.

“Get off him, we’ve got to get him ready,” Kent says, and Eric complies. Kent examines their positions, then gets up and moves, climbing back onto the bed closer to the pillows, so that Jack can recline against him, legs spread.

Eric looks at them, clearly enjoying the visual, then reaches for the lube. Kent reaches an arm down and pushes Jack’s thighs apart further so that Eric has easy access.

Jack’s breath hitches as Eric slips a finger in slowly, and Kent kisses the side of his neck. “He can take more than that, don’t worry,” Kent tells Eric, who nods and adds another finger, sliding them in faster this time.

Kent wishes he could see Eric working Jack open, but he’s happy here too, holding Jack while Eric works him open, dropping kisses on the side of Jack’s neck, whispering encouragement as Eric gets up to three fingers.

“I’m good,” Jack says. “You can go for it.”

“Patience, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric says with a grin as he keeps working his fingers inside of Jack, who’s got his head thrown back against Kent’s shoulder. Kent’s got a great view down his body, from the sweat beading at his neck to his abs to the V of his spread legs, Eric working determinedly between them.

Kent considers getting a hand behind Jack’s back and jerking himself off, because this is a sight worth jerking off too, but he’s a little worried that if he does he’ll end up coming all over Jack’s back embarrassingly fast, and he’s not some fucking teenager. So he keeps running his hands along Jack’s arms, his shoulders, his chest, telling him how good he looks and how well Eric’s going to fuck him and all that.

“ _If_ Eric ever fucks me,” Jack says, sounding breathless.

Eric shakes his head fondly but pulls his fingers out. Jack goes all boneless at that, and Kent reaches down to pull his legs up further so that it’s easy for Eric to put on a condom and slick himself up before sliding into Jack with a breathy little “Oh!”

“Feel good?” Kent asks, mouthing along the shell of Jack’s ear. Jack nods, and Eric pulls out and slams back in, harder this time, and it presses Jack harder against Kent, who’s absolutely in fucking _awe_ of the sight of Jack Zimmermann getting fucked on his bed, hands twisted in Kent’s sheets as Eric fucks him.

Eric adjusts the angle, pulls one of Jack’s legs up over his shoulder, and Jack’s face lights up like the fucking fourth of July at that, and the noises he’s making go from little breaths to outright moans.

Kent’s talking, though he’s barely aware what he’s saying - just a constant stream of words and praise and filth in Jack’s ear, and he’s not sure any of it’s particularly coherent, but it’s definitely spurring Eric on too.

Kent doesn’t know how long he’s there, pressed back against the pillows while Eric fucks Jack, time hazy and stretched out in the warmth of the room. Kent reaches an arm down so he can get a hand on Jack’s dick, and it’s a stretch for Kent’s shoulder but it’s so worth it for the way Jack arches up, caught between Eric’s cock and Kent’s fist and Kent’s overwhelmed by how good it all looks, and then Jack’s coming all over Kent’s hand.

Jack goes limp between them as Kent softens his grip, though Eric keeps fucking him through it, snapping his hips against Jack’s ass again and again, looking focused. Kent keeps talking, running a hand through Jack’s hair and telling Eric to keep going, talking about how good they both look, how hard Jack came - it’s not exactly the pinnacle of dirty talk, but it’s enough to get Eric over the edge, his whole body tightening up as he holds Jack’s hips up and swears.

After his orgasm, the tension leaves Eric’s body, and he pulls out of Jack, taking off the condom and tying it off before throwing it in the vague direction of the trash. He kisses Jack, then leans up a little further and kisses Kent, who appreciates it, but it feels like a wrapping-things-up kiss, and, well.

“That was hot as hell and all,” Kent says, “but I haven’t - ”

Eric looks mortified. “Kent! I’m sorry, where are my manners? Jack, could you just...” Eric pushes Jack toward the side of the bed, and Jack goes, slowly, still recovering from his orgasm. Eric’s got the same blissed-out, molasses-slow vibe going on, but he’s clearly a little more composed than Jack, who’s just trailing fingers up and down Kent’s leg as Eric gets a hand on Kent’s cock, kissing Kent while he works it, a little more gently than Kent likes.

“More,” Kent says against Eric’s mouth, and Eric nods before sliding down and using his mouth, which wasn’t what Kent was going for, but he’s sure as hell not complaining, especially not with whatever it is Eric’s doing with his tongue.

Kent runs his hands through Eric’s hair, doing his best not to tighten them too much or push him down, because Kent has _manners_ , and Eric’s doing a fucking fantastic job as is, and maybe Kent’s a little too worked up from watching Eric fuck Jack, and it’s suddenly all just _so much._

Kent barely has time to tell Eric he’s about to come before he does, Eric’s rhythm faltering a little as he swallows, but he keeps his hand and his mouth going until it’s too much and Kent has to push him off.

“Thanks,” Kent says with a smirk.

Eric kisses it off of his face, then climbs off the bed. “I’m getting us a washcloth,” he declares, then pauses. “Bathroom?” Kent points, and Eric heads that way.

Kent leans back against the pillows, then reaches a hand over and scratches the top of Jack’s head. Jack leans into the touch, but doesn’t say anything - he’s always been quiet after an orgasm, all pliable and sleepy. Kent lets himself just be content with this moment - all of the edges of the world are softened in that post-orgasm way, his best friend is half-asleep and fucked out next to him, and he doesn’t know what this means for them, but he thinks it’s something good.

Eric gets back then with the washcloth, and uses it to gently wipe the sweat off of Jack’s face before cleaning the come off of his stomach and setting the cloth on the nightstand.

“Y’all mind if I stay the night?” Eric asks, and Kent snorts, because what a ridiculous fucking question.

“Stay for a fucking _month,_ man,” he says, lifting the blankets and getting them all settled, Eric sandwiched in between Kent and Jack, who’s already sleeping, in typical Jack fashion.

Kent throws an arm over Eric’s waist and smiles against his shoulder, falling asleep easily.

  
  


Kent wakes up to the sound of a phone going off on the floor, buzzing again and again. When he rolls over, the clock reads 6:25, and he doesn’t want to move, but the phone’s fucking annoying, and the ringtone’s not familiar, so he shakes Eric’s shoulder gently.

“Wha?” Eric says, eyes not even open.

“Your phone,” Kent whispers. “Turn it off.”

Eric groans, but he crawls over Kent and gets the phone, its screen lighting up the whole room.

“Oh, Lord. Oh, no.” He looks horrified at whatever the messages say.

“Everything okay?” Kent asks.

“Shitty and Lardo just woke up and apparently they got married last night?”

“It’s Vegas,” Kent says with a shrug. “Someone on your team was bound to do it. Come back here, I’m not done sleeping.”

Eric sighs, but he shuts his phone off and climbs back into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> huge huge shoutout to everyone who offered support while i kept shouting at them about this  
> title from waking up in vegas by katy perry because i'm a joke  
> and yes this is totally going to be a series oops?  
> on tumblr as ittybittle, twitter as @7breadlysins, come chat with me


End file.
